


Happy Birthday, Jeeves. (Or A Change For The Better)

by Ghyll



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghyll/pseuds/Ghyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertie wants to give Jeeves something special for his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, Jeeves. (Or A Change For The Better)

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever published fan fic, so please don't be too harsh! Apologies to P.G. Wodehouse for using characters that are his, not mine, and more apologies for the anachronistic Foster and Allen song.

What does one give the valet who has everything? On the occasion of his birthday, I wanted to buy my man Jeeves something special. Hold on, I hear you say, Jeeves doesn't have everything. You're the one with the pile of cash, Wooster, you chump. Hah! That's where you're wrong! You see, if by some misfortune I should shuffle off this mortal whatsit before he does, Jeeves gets the lot. Everything will go to him: the flat, the goods and chattels therein and all the Wooster fortune. I know it's not the done thing to leave the estate to one's valet, but I say "Tinkerty tonk" to the done thing. And as I've no intention of shuffling off any time soon, I see no reason why Jeeves shouldn't benefit from the Wooster fortune now. 

On his birthday last year, I made the mistake of asking him what he wanted. And dash it all, his answer was the latest Spinosa volume. A book. That was it. Even though I'd told him the sky was the limit. I'd expected him to ask for a world cruise or a villa in the South of France. I wouldn't have refused. Well this year, I'll have you know, there will be no limit. Not even the sky. 

On the afternoon of said birthday, I was having my usual snifter at the Drones Club, when I'm dashed if the answer to my conundrum didn't come from no other than Gussy Fink-Nottle. 

"What-ho, Gussy" said I, as he joined me at the bar.

"Oh, Bertie, I'm in love again" he gave forth. 

I rolled my eyes and tutted, and I meant it to sting. He proceeded to tell me a tale about some girl called Mabel, or was it Muriel, a far away dreamy look being the order of the day apparently. But it was something that Gussy said during the course of this sorry tale that struck me to the Wooster core.

"You see, Bertie, love isn't about money. It's about the little things in life that money can't buy".

"By Jove, Gussy, that's it!" said I, slapping him on the back. "That's it!". 

I tootled back to the flat, with a plan forming in the Wooster head. Or was it the Wooster heart? 

That evening, as Jeeves floated about the flat, doing whatever it is he does to keep the place looking spiffing, I took a seat at the grand piano and treated him to some verses from a love song:

"My darling come to me  
Sit you down easily  
And rest a while in the soft firelight  
Cold is the night"

It didn't seem to throw him off his stride as he dusted the sideboard, but dash it all if he didn't clatter the decanter as he poured my drink. And I had him positively rattled as he approached the piano with the G and T. 

"But warm is my heart with pride  
Having you by my side  
You're still my guiding light  
After all these years"

I was singing it to him and he knew it. 

"Your aperitif, Sir"

It was all rather rummy. 

 

"Set the table for two, Jeeves" I said later as the dinner hour approached. 

He looked pipped.

"Are you expecting a guest, Sir?" he said, and it bally well sounded more like "why didn't you tell me someone's coming to dinner, you clot" 

I'm sorry to say I flipped.

"For once, Jeeves, just do as you're told without question". 

An icy chill blew through the Wooster abode. 

"Very good, Sir" he said. 

I shivered and he disappeared forthwith into the kitchen. I can hear you saying, Wooster, you're a rotten blighter! And you'd be right. But fear not, I followed him to said kitchen. He was stirring something on the stove.

"Jeeves, I shouldn't have snapped at you. I owe you an apology". 

He continued stirring.

"Not at all, Sir". 

My Aunt Agatha would have been appalled that I'd stoop so low as to apologise to a servant. But I don't see Jeeves as a servant, more as a friend really. 

"I want you to join me for dinner, Jeeves"

He stopped stirring. 

"That would be most inappropriate, Sir".

He said it in a tone that suggested I'd asked him to throw eggs during Act 2 of a performance at the Royal Opera House. 

"Oh what rot, Jeeves!" I said. "It seems so bally.....bally that I have dinner in one room while you have yours in another. I mean to say, Jeeves, what bally rot! You will join me for dinner and that's an end to it!"

I made a dramatic exit but then rather spoilt the effect by popping my head back round the kitchen door. 

"That's not an order, Jeeves. I'd like you to join me for dinner. Please?"

Jeeves smiled, something he rarely does. "I'd like that, Sir, thank you". 

I exited stage right again and once out of sight I punched the air with a "yes!".

 

I was sitting at the dining table when Jeeves sailed in with two starters, but then just stood there all valet-like. It dawned on me after a moment or two what he was waiting for. 

"Oh for heavens sake, sit down, Jeeves!"

"Thank you, Sir"

I touched his wine glass with mine.

"Happy Birthday, Jeeves".

Perhaps surprisingly, given the run-up, we enjoyed a very pleasant dinner, with the conversation moving between the latest antics at the Drones and gossip from the Junior Gannymede. When we'd finished, I even offered to clear the table, but he was having none of it. Just as well really. One wants to avoid breakages and whatnot. Instead, I extended my invitation to include his spending the evening with me, rather than in his servant's quarters. 

We had a most enjoyable evening, during which Jeeves (cover your ears, Aunt Agatha) had a turn at playing the piano, fetched himself a drink, and sat next to me on the Chesterfield, all without asking permission. By the end of said evening (cover your ears again dear Aunt and anyone of a nervous disposish) as we sat there, I had my arm through his. I admit it brought a tingle. 

The day done, Jeeves tucked me into bed as he does and flitted around my bedroom doing his usual. 

"I've had a most enjoyable birthday, Sir, thank you". 

It was then that I came to a decision.

"It's not just for one day, Jeeves. I want us to carry on in said fashion"

"Sir?"

"You joining me for dinner and us spending the evening together. I want it to continue"

He seemed to consider this for a moment and then said "Thank you, Sir".

I knew then that a change had come over the Wooster household. A change for the better.

"Will that be all, Sir?"

"Yes, thank you Jeeves, that will be all"

"Goodnight, Sir". He turned out the light as he left.

"Goodnight, Jeeves"

And the refrain ran silently through the Wooster head. Or was it the Wooster heart?

"I still love you  
After all these years"


End file.
